Take the Heat

“No. No, I’m sorry.”

“Good. Now stop stalling and do it.”

Oh dear God.

Fumbling with the buttons of her jeans, she pushed them down, stooping to try to work them off over her shoes.

“No,” he said. “Leave them there. I want those panties down too, then over the desk. Quickly.”

Alyson chanced a glance at him. He wore one of the slim charcoal suits he favored for work, which was strange considering it was Saturday. The coat showed off the breadth of his shoulders, the fit emphasizing the way his body tapered to a slim waist.

She gulped, noting the prominent bulge at the front of his slacks. Was this retribution turning him on?

“Ms. Hart.” His voice growled. “I won’t ask again. Panties down and over that fucking desk.”

With a whimper, she hooked her thumbs inside her panties and whisked them down, feeling as if her face might catch fire with the fierceness of her blush.

You’re doing this for your son. Don’t think about it. Just get it over with.

She lay over the cold desktop, burying her face in her arms. The rattan pressed to her buttocks, and she yelped.

“This is step one in satisfying your obligation to me, Ms. Hart. Do you agree to continue?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

Is this really happening?

The cane snapped down, and she froze with the searing sting, then groaned as the ache sank into her flesh.

The second stroke landed, and she blew out a frantic breath, the hurt clawing into her bottom.

“How many, sir?”

“As many as I want to give you, Ms. Hart.” His voice thickened. “But we’ll start with ten today, since your lily-white bottom is so tender. It’s about to be a lot less white and lot more tender.”

The third strike made her cry out, fire lancing low across the base of her buttocks. Her knees failed her, her hips dropping as she tried to cope with the pain.

“Get that ass back up, Ms. Hart. We’re not done.”

The hard tip of the cane tapped at her as he waited. Finally, she managed to lock her knees again, her fingernails digging into her forearm.

Three more strokes followed in quick succession, and this time, she screamed through clenched teeth, pain spiraling higher.

“Just a few more, then we’re done, Ms. Hart.”

Done? Already?

The prospect that this might be all he wanted buoyed her, even though she knew it was too good to be true.

Another cut burned across her ass, even lower, right at the join between buttock and thigh. She sprang up, clutching her swollen, weal-striped cheeks.

“I can’t! God, you’re killing me!” Tears streamed down her cheeks now.

“You’re doing just fine.” The cane tapped the desktop next to her. “Two more. Obey and I’ll make them quick.”

“I can’t, Sir.” She wiped tears from cheeks sticky with running mascara.

“Either you can, or you’re backing out on the deal, Ms. Hart.”